


Journalism

by vibranium_ass



Series: Journalism [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9845009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibranium_ass/pseuds/vibranium_ass
Summary: Your job is to get the story and then the promotion is all yours, although it’s not as simple as it sounds.





	

Your fingers glide across the keys of your laptop in a quick and precise motion. Your brain constantly spews out word after word as your eyes scan over each and every letter that appears. A single bead of sweat falls down your temple when you advert your eyes to the time.

_**4:01pm** _

‘Shit.’ You think to yourself. ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit.’

You’re officially late with handing in your article for this week's paper.

You let out a deep sigh and bring your stare to the boring and tedious words describing the elderly charity curling match you were at mere days ago. You held off writing the piece for so long because just the thought on how Mr. Smith was the MVP of the extremely long game sent your eyelids shut. Unfortunately, your procrastination put you in a serious time crunch.

“[L/N]!” The booming voice of your boss, Mr. Jameson, came echoing through the office. Your fingers freeze, knowing what’s to come. “My office. Now!”

You close your eyes, mentally scolding yourself for putting your work aside. 

“Hurry up!” He calls again, showing you just how annoyed he really is.

“I’m on my way.” You call back jumping out of your swivel chair and rushing towards his office. All your coworkers send you either looks of sympathy or looks of pity. Before you enter his office, you look behind you to find one of the photographers, Peter Parker, holding in his amusement at someone else getting in trouble other than himself.

You open the office door, poking your head into the smoke-filled room. “You called, Sir?”

“Take a seat.”

‘Shit.’ You brain screams. ‘I can’t get fired. I need to pay rent, eat, and pay for wifi.’

“Yes, Sir.” You smooth down the skirt you’re wearing and take a seat in the green leather chair. You watch as Jameson puts out his cigar, focusing his attention on you.

“You’re late.”

“I know, Sir! It won’t happen-” You ramble frantically, being interrupted by his heavy New York accent.

“I couldn’t give two shits about that filler piece.” Jameson reaches into his desk, taking out a yellow folder. “I have a different assignment for you.”

You let out a breath you had no idea you were holding in. A wave of relief washes over you as he passes you the folder. “And what would that be, Sir?”

“Well if you’d wait a second I would tell you.” He leans back into his chair, spinning it so he faces the window overlooking Times Square. “I need you to get the inside scoop on Captain Steven Rogers.”

Your eyes widen as the realization hits you. “You mean Captain America?”

“Of course I do, now pay attention.” He lights a cigarette, taking a deep inhale of the velvet smoke. “You’re the only person in this place who I haven’t completely lost faith in.” He exhales, allowing the smoke to curl through the air, raising to the ceiling with the rest of the lingering clouds. “I need you to head to 5th Avenue where Stark is conducting a press event at Potts Conference Centre. Stark’s trying to clear his name for all that happened in Sokovia or some shit, but we don’t care about that. A few reporters and journalists have been given permission to interview individual Avengers, and well, you’re one of them.”

“I won’t let you down-”

“Slow down, I’m not done yet.” He takes another take at his cigarette, spinning in his chair to face you once again. “I need you to get the deep stuff outta him. I don’t care about his diet, I don’t care about his fitness routine, and I sure as hell don’t care about whoever he may have a relationship with. I and everyone else want to know about his transition from the past to present. We want any and all details of who this man was before he was Captain America. If you can do that, consider the promotion to Junior Editor yours.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and an enormous, toothy smile forms on your face. “Junior Editor?” You eagerly collect the file off of his desk. “I can do that!” 

“You better.” He pushes the butt of his smoke into his ashtray. He opens another desk drawer, taking out a small silver flask. Jameson takes a swig from the flask, letting out a content breath of air. You watch as he leans back in his chair closing his eyes. “The interview’s at 4:40, so get going.”

Even though he can’t see it, you give him a curt nod and stride out the door. You quickly jog towards your desk and collect your jacket and purse. You glance towards your laptop seeing the dull paragraphs that you ditched moments ago. A small smirk plays at your lips as you mentally give your abandoned article the middle finger. ‘If I’m Junior Editor I won’t ever have to deal with curling matches ever again.’ You think to yourself while closing your laptop.

You turn towards the elevator, ready to head to the interview, but a certain teenage boy steps in your path. “Hey, [Y/N].”

“Not now, Peter.” You wrap a scarf around your neck, preparing for the cold New York weather. “I need to be somewhere.”

“You don’t look like Jameson fired you.” His eyes slowly drift towards the yellow file that’s being held tightly in your hand. “In fact it looks like he gave you an assignment!”

“Peter, I have to go.”

“Come one, [Y/N], I’m desperate! Please just take me with you. I don’t care if it’s even another curling game. I need the money for a new camera.”

“Peter, I can’t deal with this right now.” You press the down button on the elevator. “Just go chase a superhero or something. Stark’s always taking joyrides in his suit. Jameson pays good money for those pictures.”

Peter raises an eyebrow at you. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You watch as the light above the elevator moves, indicating that it’s getting closer. “A new hero is popping up every day, I’m sure you’ll find something. In fact, there’s that Spider Guy that’s been showing up lately.”

“His name’s Spider-Man.” Peter says with an edge to his voice. “I mean, at least I think it is.”

“Well, whatever his name is I know for a fact that Jameson would kill to have some shots of the elusive hero.” The ding of the elevator rings through your ears as the metal doors open, waiting for you to enter. “Now, I really have to go.”

Peter gives you a small wave as a huge smile plasters itself across his face. “Thanks so much, [Y/N]! I’ll definitely try and snap that Spider Guy!”

“You do that!” You call out as the doors begin to close. When the fully shut you release a large sigh, looking down to the watch your grandmother had given to you as a graduation present. 

**4:21pm**

“Shit.” You mumble. “Shit, shit, shit, shit. I’m going to be late.” You eyes trail up to the floor counter, glued to every number that passes. Your foot begins to tap uncontrollably, desperately wanting the elevator to speed up even slightly. 

After two more agonizing minutes, and four stops, you finally reached the lobby. You jog lightly to the door trying to come up with a game plan in your head. It could take only five minutes to get to the conference center by taxi, but traffic downtown is always busy and unpredictable. That makes your only other option to run for it.

Without further thought, your feet rapidly carry you down the bustling sidewalk, darting towards the conference center. As you run, you yell a constant stream of “Excuse me!” and “I’m sorry!”. You bump into nearly everybody you pass making them scream out any colorful curse a person can think of. After the first mile, your lungs burn. You feel your face becoming increasing hotter by the second as sweat collects at the base of your neck. You take a moment to catch your breath before taking off for your next and final mile.

After ten more minutes and one embarrassing fall because of your uncomfortable work heels, you finally make it to Potts Conference Centre. You rapidly breathe in and out as you attempt to make yourself presentable even in the slightest of ways. You walk up the concrete steps feeling your nerves skyrocket with each step you take. 

You freeze in front of the giant walnut-coloured doors. You close your eyes and take a shaky breath. “This is it.” You say to yourself. “This is the interview that will make or break my career.” You open your eyes feeling determined and ready for what lays behind. “Let's do this.” 

Your hand grasps around the chilled metal handle and you pull, only the door doesn’t open. You glare at the door, giving it another pull. Feeling confused, you begin to frustratedly pull the door back and forth. You let out an angry groan as you check your watch. 

**4:50pm**

“Shit.” You close your eyes and rub a hand over your face. For conferences like these, they always lock the doors after they start, not wanting any unwanted guests. Typically you would agree with such a rule, but not when you standing outside in the cold when you're supposed to be with all the press that’s in there. 

You slide down the door, needing to take a moment to rest. Only one second into your moment of silence your phone suddenly begins to ring loudly. You search through your purse and quickly find it. You don’t bother to check the number before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey [Y/N], so I was wondering just how much Jameson might pay for each picture.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you light hit your head on the door. “I don’t know, Peter.”

“Woah,” You hear the tone of his voice change. “Are you okay?”

“No, Peter, I’m not.” You breathe out.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jameson said he’s give me a promotion if I get the inside scoop on Steve Rogers-”

“Captain America?!”

“And now I’m locked out of Potts Conference Centre where I’m supposed to be interviewing him right now!”

“You were supposed to interview Captain America?!”

“Peter!”

“Right, sorry.” Silence takes over the call only until Peter yells out. “Wait, did you say you’re at Potts Conference Centre?!”

You roll your eyes and stand up from the ground. “Yes-”

“There’s another entrance!”

Your eyes widen as excitement bubbles within you. “Really?”

“Yeah! There’s a back entrance just down the alley to the left of the building. They always leave it unlocked.”

“Wait,” You jog down the stairs and head towards the alley that should lead you to the back door. “How do you know that?” You wait for his answer but the sudden silence on his side only indicates that he hung up. You take your phone away from your ear, placing it back in your purse. “Dork.” You shake your head at Peter’s behavior as you continue to walk down the alley. You near the end of the litter adorned alleyway but quickly come to an abrupt stop at the sound of an angered voice.

“Listen Tony, I don’t care if this helps you out. If one more reporter or journalist asks me about my past and the people from my past, I will use your Audi as my personal punching bag.”

You carefully tiptoe towards the wall, not wanting to be seen by whoever is behind the corner. 

“You’re over reacting, Cap-”

“How would you like it if a dozen people picked and pried at you for any information about your mother and father?”

“They do! I deal with it by having a glass of whiskey for every question I’m asked. It’s our job to deal with it.”

“Well, I’m done.”

You decide at this moment to poke your head from behind the brick wall and what you find leaves your mouth hanging agape with shock. Your eyes glue to the two forms of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.

“I’m done with all of this.” Steve pushes a hand through his hair as he takes a couple steps away from Tony. “I’m done with dealing with these vultures. My past is my past. I don’t need hundreds of people wanting to know it just for their entertainment.”

You watch as Tony Stark lets out a large groan and drags his hands down his face. “Well, what do you want me to do about it, Steve?”

“I want you to stop scheduling these press events for me. I don’t want to even speak to another journalist for the rest of my life.”

You duck behind the wall feeling like you’ve seen enough. You rest your head against the cooled brick wall, and release a soft sigh. ‘What am I supposed to do now’ You think to yourself. ‘I need that promotion… I desperately need that promotion.’

Your job just became nearly impossible, but there still might be one way for you to get your promotion.


End file.
